Yesterday I was pretty sad and I had to cut it out because I was annoying myself. So I went shopping at some vintage stores.
I didn't BUY anything, but I looked around and showed myself a good time.
I coveted this dress. Which would come in handy for all the galas and balls you are sick of hearing about me attenting. And those debuts? How many posts about yet another coming-out party do you have to read?
Okay. I really might have to go back and get me one of these gaudy starfish. I cannot help it. I love these pink sparkly ludicrous starfish. Yes, I am a drag queen going to a Bette Midler concert. You got an issue with that?
Here is me and my biggest fan. BAH!
Anyway. So I was going about my day when I heard from this guy I met on Match about a week ago.
I KNOW! How bad you wanna slap me right now?
Before our hideous breakup, Dick Whitman and I had agreed we would not see just each other, because we weren't ready for that sort of thing. I knew, once I stopped seeing Daniel Boone, that if I didn't hurry up and meet someone else, I would get all weird about Dick Whitman and surprise!
Too late.
Anyway, I had begrudgingly gotten back on stupid Match and right away I started talking to this great person, who was cute (he used to be--are you sitting down? Are you?--A FIREMAN. I KNOWWWWW!) and so funny and nice to me and really smart and has a master's in English and I was all, wow. He seems pretty good. I wonder how THIS will go terribly wrong?
Then we figured out? One of his best friends is Tank. The Miracle Angel Baby.
I KNOW!!!!!
For those of you who weren't here in 2008--not that you weren't born then. June's blog. Attracting three-year-olds since 2011. But if you weren't READING me then, Tank was my coworker and my carpoolmate and generally the nicest guy you'd ever want to meet. Tank rocks the house. Oh, and he weighed like a pound when he was born. Seriously, go read the link. For heaven's sake. Would it KILL you?
Anyway, so this new guy tells me, "I've been friends with Tank since 8th grade."
You can imagine how slowly I stampeded to Tank's email.
"I cannot BELIEVE you know the person I've been trying to pick up on Match!" I enthused.
"What is this, Freak Out Tank Day?" he wrote back. "The Fireman just sent me pretty much the same email! This is unbelievable! When are we gonna double date?"
I asked if Tank would give me a letter of recommendation, and honestly, there is not much more a person could do than tell me they are a good friend of Tank's. He is that great.
The point is, Fireman and I talked on the phone Friday night, which was a great distraction from my sad Marly & Me fest. He is new to Match, so I was giving him some tips and asked if he'd gone on an official Match date yet.
"Not yet," he said. "Tomorrow at noon I'm meeting someone for lunch. Then if it works out we'll go to the museum."
"Oooo!" I said, the Gladys Kravitz of everyone, "Let me know how it goes!"
And at noon I did think of him, all going on his first date from this dumb site and all. At 12:37? Dude, I am not even kidding you. TWELVE THIRY-SEVEN. He emails me: "God, this is awful."
Okay, I know I only got his perspective? But that woman sounds like a drip. Needless to say they did not go to the museum. So we joked about his hideous date for awhile (okay, for example? She said, right away, "Um. Is that SWEET TEA? That's the WORST THING you could put in your body!!" Okay. Seriously, sister. He did not order a glass of hemlock. Lighten up.) and he said he had nothing to do all day and I said, "Why not have TWO awful dates in one day?!"
And that is how I ended up on an impromptu date with the Fireman.
We talked for almost five hours. We walked around downtown and sat on a wall and watched people. We ate nachos that were bigger than our heads. We discussed Tank, of course, and death and the cognitive function that makes one catastrophize (hello. How did he recognize THAT in me so soon?) and dogs (he has a Lab) and marriages and Vicodin and Wyoming and movies and Pink Floyd and my uncle Leo and my uncle Jim and my grandmother sticking the address book up my arse and politics and religion and heaven and Vicks Vapo-Rub.
We never shut the hell up.
Finally we decided to take a picture with the phone and email it to Tank.
Trust me. For one photo taken with my iPhone in which I did not even know if the thing went OFF, it was so loud where we were, we took one adorable photo. ADORABLE!
So you know what? That was helpful. I feel less awful. I guess I will live through another heartbreak after all. Every time I think of DW I want to burst into tears and rage, rage against the dying of the light and so forth, but I don't know if you have noticed this but I tend towards drama.
Oh, and yes. He HAS slid down a pole. Of course I asked.
P.S. Every time I write an annoying P.S. I picture you all leaving the room and me pulling you back in by your shirts. Don't forget to come back tonight at 7:00 Eastern for book club. Click Mince Words with June for details. Also, Joann is comment of the week and Hulk had to get an honorable mention because he was hilarious. See This Week's Special. Letting go of your shirt now.
